


Paper Cup Hearts

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Barista Louis, Barista Zayn, Coffee Shops, Doodles, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pining, side larry - Freeform, ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 15:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3733651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"You can always tell a bloke by the way they take their coffee."</em>
</p><p>[Niall is convinced that this isn't his Big Coffee Shop Romance and it takes one hazel-eyed boy, a friend who believes in the power of soulmates and a good cuppa, and a half dozen hearts doodled on the side of his tea to make him believe otherwise.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Cup Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts for months, so I decided to dust it off and finish it up. It's a bit different from my usual style, so I'm terribly sorry if it seems to get away from me at some points! (It did).
> 
> Anyway, I hope this is cute and fluffy and well written and if you like it I hope it puts a smile on your face :)
> 
> (Also, this is beta'd and edited by me, and as I am not British nor can I catch all my mistakes, there are probably a couple errors that I'm terribly sorry for in advance).

It's with wild wind and relentless rain staining his cheeks ruddy, numbing his nose past sensation that Niall curses the day he had met Harry Styles. 

_Promise you'll come over tomorrow?_

_Promise I'll come over and the day after that._

And it's only the childhood promises in the sandboxes and tree houses two sizes too small that have somehow morphed into some intangible sense of unbreakable, un-retractable bro-code that keep him trekking through London’s streets in the piss pouring rain.

All for the sake of _he's too cute Niall, he's got sass and I can't do it alone_ , and they're in University for fuck's sake, Harry should've grown some balls and out of this phase at least eight years ago.

Niall curses Harry’s name, painting it vibrantly with a whole slew of colourful words and combinations he invents out of thin air as he splashes through London’s quickly flooding streets.

Harry's there waiting for him, warm and dry, when Niall bustles through the doors of the little shop, grumpy and soaking wet. What little hair gel he did run through his hair to make himself hallway presentable, Niall knows, has disappeared when he lifts the hood from his head. He doesn't even bother to acknowledge Harry's snickering as he strides up to the counter and pokes through his wallet for some change for tea.

"Hi, wot can I get ya, mate?"

The voice surprises Niall into looking back up. It's low and slow. Not the kind of low Harry's is, not deep and rumbling at the back of his throat, but a low gradually attained through years of keeping quiet, of speaking only when being spoken to out of politeness. Not the type of low drawl someone talking to customers all day will get you. Not the type of slow Harry's is either, he's drawing out every word, annunciating it like he's already thinking and planning out exactly the word that is to come after. English major, Niall concludes, definitely an English major.

Niall's also a bit surprised because in all the three years Harry's been dragging him to this place, never once has he seen a new face behind the counter.

Embarrassed enough about reading too much into the bloke's voice, his face provides a whole new unnecessary analysis for Niall to delve into. He really doesn't want to, he tells himself as he slides the change over the wooden counter, concentrating on the scraping sound it makes rather than how the bloke's eyelashes scrape his cheekbones as he looks down at the coins and notes.

He looks back up again and wow, who is Niall here for again? Harry. Definitely Harry. Harry and his bloke problems. Bro-code. Not warm hazel eyes the exact colour he likes in his tea when it's done steeping.

"Thanks, but I kinda need to know wot ya like." The bloke smiles gently at him and Niall's brain is reacting far too sluggishly for him to have made up that soft snort that sounds kind of like amusement.

Tea. Hazel tea is what Niall likes. He thinks. No. Wait. What?

"Earl Grey."

"For 'ere or to go?"

Unnaturally attractive barista bloke catches his bottom lip between his teeth and twists the smile like he's not even aware he's got it. And that jawline.

Niall gulps.

"To go, please."

His lungs expel the air Niall hadn't even known he was hoarding when the barista turns to fetch a large cardboard cup and tea bag. He looks back at Harry, sucking more air down his lungs like Harry's got the life preserver he needs. All Harry's actually got for him is a grin like he's trying too hard not to show teeth and his dimples are quivering under the stress.

"Wot's your name?"

And Niall's stomach bottoms out because no one this attractive ever has bothered to learn his name unless they had to and oh- he turns back to see a sharpie and the cup in the bloke's hands.

"Niall."

"Niall," the barista repeats as the sharpie scribbles noisily, and it's just as low and slow as every other goddamn word to come out of his mouth, thoughtful, carefully chosen, just Niall's name. Just Niall.

Oh boy.

"Pretty bad out there, innit?"

Oh so eloquently, the word tumbles out of Niall's mouth, "huh?"

Hazel eyes flicker from the window back to Niall.

"Oh, um. Yea. Soaked. Wouldn't go out there if I were you, mate."

The barista grins, pushing the crinkles against the edges of his eyes and the bridge of his nose and Niall definitely isn't fascinated by the way his eyelashes clash with his smooth fringe before he swipes it away and pours the steaming hot water into the cup and hands it over with a cardboard sleeve.

"Wouldn't if I could," he smiles politely. "One Earl Grey tea for Niall. Enjoy."

“T’anks. You too." 

_You too_. Niall retreats over to Harry before he tries to correct himself into even more of a fool.

"Tea's alright then?" Harry's grin breaks into a full smile. At least he has the decency to try and stop himself from chuckling. It doesn't help. "That looked like a proper out of body experience, mate. Didn't know if you'd recover or not."

"Shuddup. I don't-"

"You should go up there again."

"And do what? Order a cookie?" Niall exasperates. It startles him, how loud he's gotten, and with the majority of students still in their two to four-thirty classes, the cafe's bare, save for them and a girl buried in her textbook. Well, was buried, she's looking straight at Harry and Niall now. Niall doesn't even want to turn and look back at the counter. His cheeks are burning and he hopes Harry won't point this out.

"Or his number," Harry whispers wickedly.

"Why'd you drag me out here in this mess?"

Harry pouts.

"I called you before it started. Besides, I haven't seen you in a week."

"Five days," Niall reminds him, wincing as he takes a sip of tea.

"Friends should see- are you drinking that black? With the tea bag still in there?"

Niall nods. Like it's the way he's always taken it. Harry squints.

"There's sugar and cream over by the counter."

"Never not a good time to try something different." Niall takes another small sip. He knows that Harry knows he's never going to get through the whole cup without his two milks and one sugar.

"You're a child."

"You're a child for dragging me out here in the piss pouring rain to giggle about some crush you've managed to find in less than five days," Niall snaps.

Harry, bless his soul, has always been a hopeless romantic. Where Niall was happy shagging off once or twice with the same person if they liked him well enough, Harry was planning his wedding and day dreaming about what it'd be like to find his forever.

Wasn't why he came here for that exact same reason anyway? A prospective forever?

Harry stiffens, mocking his offence taken.

"You're cold and wet. You don't mean that."

Niall pretends to enjoy the next sip he takes.

"So he's not here, you dragged me out here through bloody hell, and he's not here."

At least it gets this train wreck of a conversation back on track. Sort of. Niall's still a bit caught up in the little bird nestling in the space between the barista's thumb and forefinger.

"Well I don't know his full schedule yet."

Niall snorts because _yet_.

"Hey," Harry whines. "You'll meet him soon."

"Doesn't sound like _you’ve_ properly met yet," Niall gibes.

"You can always tell a bloke by the way they take their coffee. Or tea. He drinks his black.” Harry says it with so much determination and faith that he almost sweeps Niall up with him. Niall doesn't wonder how the barista takes his tea. Or his coffee. He definitely doesn't look back and catch him grinding some coffee beans. 

"Or by the way they bite their nails."

Niall looks back and down, and Harry's right, he's indeed traded his tea, sans milk and sugar, for his nails.

Harry smirks the smuggest smirk Niall's ever seen him smirk, and for what it's worth, it's not the first time he's felt like punching him. In a friendly “I swear to God if you say another word” way.

As a concession, and because Niall's still a bit damp, Harry says that the lad's name is Louis, and he likes writing _Harold_ on his orders even though Harry's apparently told him a thousand times that that's not his name, it's _just Harry_ , and that's got to count for something, right? Niall grins with Harry's naive enthusiasm. He's always been a lover, Harry, and it's enough to remind him that he's not here for eyes the colour of unblemished Earl Grey and lips moist and a bit overworked by persistent teeth.

They talk and speculate about the barista with the mischievous blue eyes instead, their courses, Niall's job at the family-run record store that's not doing good enough to give him the salary he started with but he still won't quit for the world, and back to how Louis insists that it's Harold and not just Harry.

Niall's tea has long grown cold by the time five-thirty classes end and students start to fill out the space looking for a quick bite to eat, busying the barista far more than he looks comfortable with before Sophia, the girl who usually works with Perrie, swoops in and saves a few grilled cheeses from being burnt.

“T’ink we should go if your boy isn’t goin’ t’ be here,” Niall says, slowly spinning the full cup of tea with total disinterest.

Harry hums, a bit disappointed but he nods anyway.

“Should go anyway, Gemma must be starving.”

Niall gulps, stomach already starting to growl. 

It’s not the first time Niall wishes he lived with Harry. Not by a long shot. Even though Harry’s a poli-sci major with enough work and stress to give him grey hair before he even thinks about graduating, he still cooks an honest to god home cooked meal every night for himself and his sister. Niall gets to go home to pre-cooked frozen lasagna his roommate may or may not have re-heated properly. Or at all.

Just when Niall thinks he’s dried off pretty well in the hour and a half he’s been at the coffee shop, he gets up to throw his tea away without looking too suspiciously like he didn’t drink any of it. Harry however, is already up and pulling his coat on, knocking into Niall as he tries to avoid a girl squeezing between him and another table. 

Tea explodes everywhere.

“Christ, Harry!” Niall hisses, looking down helplessly at the growing russet stain on what’s most definitely his cleanest shirt at the moment- well, _was_ now. It’s dripping and soaking in and sticking to his stomach and everyone, _especially_ the Earl Grey eyed boy, is looking.

“Oh, sorry! I really didn’t mean- maybe that’ll give you incentive to actually wash a load this weekend?”

And goddamnit all, Niall laughs; too high and nervous when all he really wants to do is drown Harry’s face in what’s left of his tea. He misses the days where Harry was so apologetic and would have just left it off at ‘sorry’ and helped him get napkins. But, University’s changed him and he’s giggling unapologetically as he lopes out the door, and Niall chances a wary glance over to the counter to see both baristas looking at him. Shocked, but mostly amused.

“It’s cool,” Niall breathes. “Harry’s my- he’s a twat.”

He shuts his mouth before he can say anything else ridiculous and nearly stumbles towards the door, throwing away his unfinished tea without another look back.

He doesn’t get a glance at the cardboard sleeve that had fallen off onto the floor, and the little black heart inked into the cup remains hidden even as the cup hits the bottom of the bin, the rest of the tea staining the trash something like hazel and gold.

Niall follows Harry out of the cafe, still too caught up in all the embarrassment he’s suffered through this whole visit to chance a glance back at the counter, missing the soft, endeared, almost bashful smile that follows. Like a promise of another heart to come.

 

**& &**

 

Harry, determined, starts dragging (quite possibly in the literal sense at times) Niall to the coffee shop at least twice a day for the next couple of days. Niall would love to be dramatic and think through wind, rain, sleet, and snow too, but the reality of it is that even though the sky stays that ominous colour of grey, the kind of grey that makes you feel the rain's coming in your very bones, none of those weather patterns actually happen.

“Harry, you know I actually do come here meself sometimes, t’ study an’ that. Reckon I could spot the bloke across half o’ London at this point,” Niall grumps as Harry pulls him into the shop by the sleeve of his t-shirt.

Niall doesn’t need to though, because he’s right there, across the counter, serving a steaming cup with a bright, quirky grin to the customer in front of him. Then his eyes flicker over to the line, scanning it over before seeing Harry and Niall. His grin brightens when he sees Harry, and Niall thinks that maybe this might be a bit worth putting up with listening to Harry wax on and on about the mesmerizing swirl of blue and a hint of green that make up Louis’ irises when Niall’s trying to concentrate on his schoolwork. 

He makes it a point to watch Louis, gauge his reactions, because Lord knows Harry will be fawning and wrapped up in his own little world to notice the important things- like if Louis actually likes him- without strenuously overanalyzing every little detail. He’s filing it away as a positive sign when Louis bumps his hip into the other barista as he turns to face the wall of mugs, giving off a tiny, discrete flicker of the eyes towards the line that even Niall thinks might be a trick of his eyes when he sees the other barista.

It’s him. Earl Grey-hazel-golden-honey-eyed boy whom absolutely did laugh at Niall when he first entered the coffee shop and when he left the other day. Niall’s heart kicks up a little too fast and he gulps, realizing that they’ve locked eyes and Niall’s got his undivided attention for all of a split second. Not wanting to mess things up by just staring, Niall nods, giving his hand a wave with which the barista trades with a warm smile.

It’s positively, embarrassingly, earth shattering. Although Niall can’t really tell what- his own spark of competence in front of the barista for once, or the way the barista’s eyes crinkle around the edges and how his nose scrunches up when he laughs as Louis whispers something into his ear. Niall blushes furiously.

“Harold!” Louis calls out when it’s finally his turn, and well, Harry wasn’t wrong. Niall forces himself to listen in on the rest. It’s what Harry would want. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Niall rolls his eyes because really. The last time someone used that tone of voice with him, Niall got laid. And he refuses to believe that Harry’s so socially incompetent that he can’t tell that Louis is blatantly attracted and also shamelessly flirting with him.

He’s so wrapped up in his internal monologue and documentation of their interaction he misses the other barista’s (the more important one’s, Niall thinks) call, “next?”

It takes a nudge from the guy behind him to send Niall tripping over his own two feet towards the cash. And well, he really didn’t expect to look sharp for long. Not when his brain glitches every time the barista looks at him.

“Hi, Niall, right?”

Niall nods, hoping that smiling like an idiot is the way to go about things when someone recognizes you- never mind that they’re ridiculously attractive.

“Yeah, can I get an Earl Grey to go, please? And actually-” he steals a glance at the sandwich display. It’s just after lunch anyway. “Can I get the pesto bocconcini sandwich as well?”

“Toasted?” The barista asks, looking up from the cup he’s been scribbling on. 

Toasted. Niall’s brain runs the word on repeat a few times, and was that a question mark at the end? Because the way he can see the slightest hint of Earl Grey hazel peeking from under the thick, dark curtain of eyelashes is ridiculous. 

Niall blinks. 

“Uh, yeah. Please.”

The barista smiles at him and bless, that’s the second time now, Niall’s on a roll.

“Lou, could you press a pesto for me?”

The way Louis’ got a hand on his hips and the way he rolls his eyes at Niall’s barista is quite comical. He scrutinizes the way he pours the boiling hot water into Niall’s cup before saying, “No, I cannot. I’m quite busy myself actually.”

Talking to Harry, Niall gathers when he looks over. And wow, Harry’s going to tell him he’s the worst friend in the world because he was no where near listening to that conversation when he promised he would.

Louis does as Niall’s barista asks anyway, tsking and griping about it to Harry the whole time.

“Just started and already you’re slacking off. How much longer are you planning on working here, mate?” Louis jibes. 

The other barista just laughs this off, showing signs of already having gotten used to Louis’ kind of humor in the short time he’s worked here, and hands Niall his steaming steeping tea.

“There y’go, mate. Pesto’ll be ready in a bit. Enjoy.”

Niall tips the cup and offers his thanks, stopping himself just in time before he says “you too”.

It’s a bit difficult to find a seat in the cramped shop with the afternoon lunch rush. There aren’t any seats, so Niall and Harry sidle into a booth already occupied by a couple. Niall presses the dry part of the teabag in between his fingers, swirling it and bobbing it around the water and watches as the water blooms chestnut.

“You actually going to make it properly this time, right?” Harry asks. Niall doesn’t miss the hint of mockery in his tone. He glances back, eyeing the milk and sugar dispensers, placed precariously (or strategically. Niall doesn’t prefer to look at it that way though) close to the counter. 

Zayn’s busy ringing up other customers though, so Niall gives Harry a warning glare before getting up and stalking over.

Thankfully, Louis announces that his sandwich is done just as he’s finished mixing his tea. Niall grabs it, thankful he doesn’t have to risk two trips. When he gets back to the booth, the couple is gone.

“So? What’d you think?”

Niall takes a tentative first sip of his tea. Good, perfect, awesome. Not hazel and gold. He does not frown at that.

“About what?”

Harry jerks his head towards the counter.

“Oh, Louis? Yeah, totally interested,” Niall waves his hands off. “I’d say go up there and give him your number now.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he’s still grinning, so Niall counts that as a win and starts on his sandwich.

It occurs to him halfway through his second half of the sandwich that Harry’s been counting. And, doing a quick re-calculation in his head, Niall realizes that he’s turned back around to look at the counter five times exactly. Not counting side eyeing the barista when he goes over to refill the sugar dispenser and the milk carton.

“You got a little-“ Harry points to the corner of his mouth and Niall, cheeks starting to flare up, darts his tongue past the corner of his mouth afraid of what it’ll find when he laps up a decent amount of pesto from the corner of his mouth.

Niall swallows, grabbing for one of Harry’s napkins frantically just in case he missed anything himself, but the damage is already done. The barista had already spotted him before on his way back to the counter, smiling a little half smile and fluttering- _fluttering_ \- his eyelashes.

“Shut up,” Niall mumbles, but Harry’s already trying to cover his dimples. Niall looks back, wondering what kind of collateral damage lies behind that counter now.

“You know, we could always switch spots,” Harry suggests. 

Niall turns back to face him with a scowl, just in time too because Louis nudges the boy and points in his and Harry’s general direction.

“Gotta go anyway,” Niall says. “Got class.”

He doesn’t budge from his seat.

Harry squints at him.

“No you don’t.”

“Psychology,” Niall nods.

“I feel like this is where you go _psych_! Because you dropped out of that two weeks ago.”

“Harry, that was an awful pun.”

“Hey, just as awful as your excuse to get away from me,” Harry frowns. “And that cute barista. ’Sides, you’d be late by now.”

“You know, for a friend who doesn’t see me often enough, you sure have me schedule down a tee.”

“S’what friends are for,” Harry waves Niall off cheerfully.

Then Harry’s reaching for his cup and stalls.

“Uhm- which one was mine again?”

Niall looks down.

“Don’t tell me you put it down wrong.”

Harry shrugs, studying both cups intensely.

“Did you happen to get a heart on yours?”

It shouldn’t make Niall blush. It really shouldn’t. It’s just a heart scribbled in on the side of _one of their cups_ and really, the prospect of getting a heart doodled on his cup shouldn’t rush all the blood in his body up to his cheeks but it does. Just the thought makes his heart pound harder and the curve of his lips drift upward.

But really. What are the chances of that heart being his? Niall purses the smile from his lips, takes a steady breath to reign in his heart, and decides that it’s not for him. The signs are clearly there and they all point to Louis. Niall saw the sparks and the chemistry between him and Harry and all the hazel eyed barista gives Niall is a warm half-moon smile. Maybe Louis is finally making his move. The dark haired barista has no reason to at all.

Harry is all bright smiles and twinkling eyes and giddy laughter as Niall finishes up the rest of his sandwich- as fast as he can. His tea’s gone cold too quickly, and Niall refuses to think it has something to do with the absence of an ink stain on the cup. Thankfully, Niall observes as he checks his phone, he does have class soon this time. And though it doesn’t take fifteen minutes to get to the music building, Harry agrees that they should head out, long, graceful fingers wrapped protectively around his cup as if it holds his whole future.

And maybe, Niall thinks as he spots Louis winking at his friend on their way out, maybe it does.

He throws his own cup out spitefully, the consistency of the tea suddenly too sweet. This isn’t Niall’s Big Coffee Shop Romance, it’s Harry’s.

So he claps Harry on the shoulder and says “what did I tell ya, ‘course he’s interested” and watches as Harry’s eyes light up.

He doesn’t look back when he hears Louis burst out laughing at the way his friend’s eyes widen when he spots Niall’s cup in Harry’s hands.

 

**& &**

 

“Dunno, mate. Maybe y’should just be happy for him.”

Niall nearly drops the dusty limited edition Pyromania vinyl. He’s spent nearly a week stewing in his own self pity (over a guy he hardly had any chance with to begin with) and avoiding Harry and the coffee shop. It doesn’t help that Paul’s cut back on his hours again, leaving him more time to mope around the flat.

“What? I am,” he says shortly. “Never said I wasn’t.”

Liam cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

Niall exhales, forces the crease between his brows to even out.

“You’re not even supposed to be working right now, why’re you here?”

Liam lifts up another comic book, presumably a super rare, limited addition of The Green Lantern that Paul would never let out of his own shop like Niall should know why already. Niall supposes he does.

“Or, here’s another idea. Why don’t you just go up to this cute barista and give him your number.”

Niall scrunches his nose.

“T’at doesn’t even work for me, it’d be much easier if I were the barista. ‘Cause I’d have more of an excuse t’ give him somet’in’.”

Liam rolls his eyes, which isn’t exactly the retort Niall had wanted, so he takes a different route.

“What time’s Jesy’s shift again tonight?” He pries.

“We’re not starting that,” Liam says just as calmly. 

Niall huffs, looking back to the rack to find out he’s forgotten where the vinyl was supposed to go.

“Liam, was this limited edition?”

Liam nods his head upon inspection. “I’ll take it to the front.”

The sound of the bell tinkling in the doorway, a sound heard few and far between the hours they spend amongst the dusty shelves and racks, has both of the boys turning their heads. And _for the love of Christ_ , Niall thinks. It’s _him_.

The hazel-eyed barista looks around through the dust particles at the shop, surveying. Clearly it’s his first time here. Because the sign on the door says that they’re out for lunch. And Niall supposes it’s his fault for not locking up and flipping over the closed sign.

“Uhm. Hullo,” Liam says. “We’re um. I know it doesn’t say, but we’re closed at the moment.”

“Oh, sorry. One of my mates recommended this place, said I’d find some good stuff- I can come back-“

“No, no! We’re open! Just ‘out ta lunch’ but no one ever actually leaves here t’go anywhere.” Niall should take Liam’s quizzical look as a hint to stop babbling but the words just seem to keep coming. “Don’t get paid enough to go out. Feel free ta browse if y’like.”

The barista’s eyes are wide by the time he shuts himself up and Niall can still see his eyelashes from where he’s kneeling and it’s really not fair.

“Niall! Hey,” he smiles.

“Hey! What’s up?” Niall staggers up, wiping the dust on his hands from the packed vinyls onto his jeans. He only realizes belatedly that it’s a bad idea as the dust poofs around him.

“It’s Zayn,” the barista continues. “From-”

The barista’s mouth keeps going, lips forming words that form sentences maybe, but Niall’s brain short-circuits and everything stops for him to process this one bit of information. Because _Zayn_. Because it’s like Niall never knew that that word, that name, was missing from his vocabulary; he never knew how desperately he actually needed it to be in there until now. 

Niall allows himself at least another two seconds of unabashedly, creepily staring at Zayn as his brain reconnects itself and starts processing sensory information before the barista trails off, unsure.

“Zayn,” is all Niall can really exclaim before he’s smiling stupidly.

The shy, chewed off smile returns.

“From the coffee shop, yeah.”

“Liam, this lad right here makes the sickest cup o’ tea here in London,” Niall calls out.

Liam looks from the barista to Niall and the look on Niall’s face must say it all because Liam’s mouth falls open with a soft ‘oh’.

Thankfully, he doesn’t get a chance to fluster Niall with anything like “I’ve heard so much about you” because Zayn’s huffing out a laugh that sounds like pure embarrassment and Niall mentally pats himself on the back.

“Thanks.”

And then Zayn shuffles off, eyes glancing back to Niall before he starts perusing the R N’ B section. Niall lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding and tries to focus on where the hell the Willie Nelson vinyl he pulls out of the box goes.

He ends up misplacing poor Willie. And a Tina Turner and even Dean Martin, which he should definitely know where all of them. And it’s all because Zayn has to look through the racks and through his eyelashes to get peeks of Niall when he thinks Niall isn’t looking. Of course, Niall can’t stop staring so their gazes clash for one spectacular moment, the residual heat burning up both of their cheeks as they quickly look away.

Niall doesn’t even end up finishing this shelving business when Zayn meanders over to the counter a half hour later. (There are only about fifty vinyls in the box for fuck’s sake). His cheeks sting with embarrassment when he realizes the side glances Zayn’s been giving him for the past minute are because Liam’s suddenly disappeared.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he jumps over the counter, sliding the Boyz II Men vinyl over to the scanner. “Don’t know where Liam went. Always disappearing when the place needs him most.”

And okay, that’s not really fair. Liam is always there for the place. Besides Paul, Liam is a support system for the record store (along with Niall). It’s only really Niall that needs him most right now, but he’s not going to say that right in front of Zayn’s face.

Liam will hear about it later though. Definitely.

“Think he went ‘round to the back,” Zayn says quietly, watching the vinyl as the scanner picks up the price and chirps.

“Don’t need him anyway, ‘ve got good company,” Niall smiles. “Seven seventy-five, please.”

Zayn smiles, another toothy grin and Niall can see a slick pink tongue tucking up to the roof of his mouth and his stomach drops and all he can think is _wow_.

“So, um. You actually have a record player or are you just collectin’?”

Zayn digs harder through his wallet to find spare quarters. They finally clack and clink onto the counter as the pink in his cheeks fades.

“Not yet. S’um… Somethin’ I’ve been working towards f’r a bit. The record player.”

Niall’s breath hiccups in his throat.

“Yeah, me da has one o’ them. But y’wouldn’t be able to pry it out of his cold, dead hands. Or so he says.”

“Sick,” Zayn says. “About… the record player that is, not your dad being dead.”

Zayn gives off a short, nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head and Niall pushes thoughts of kissing him senseless over the counter to translate how cute Niall thinks he is in favour of telling him that he knows the feeling of saying something stupid around your crush. Not that Zayn has a crush on him. He absolutely probably does not. Niall is definitely just wishfully thinking there.

“Well, gotta get back to my shift,” Zayn says after Niall hands him back the vinyl and his change. “See y’round.”

“Yeah, good seein’ ya Zayn!” Niall calls out, thankful Zayn doesn’t turn around as he leaves the store or else he’ll definitely know Niall feels like a complete knob around him all the time.

Suspiciously, Liam returns once Zayn’s passed the windows of the shop.

“Huh,” is all he says.

Niall bristles, going on the defensive because that little huff usually means he’s thinking.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Liam shrugs. He pauses. “You sure he’s not interested?”

“A hundred and t’irty percent.”

Liam is silent for a second.

“Are you sure you’re sure?”

“Is there somet’ing you’re not tellin’ me, cause-“

“Nope, nothing,” Liam amends quickly. “Just curious.”

 

**& &**

 

“I’ll just get a mug of Earl Grey for here, please.”

Zayn looks back up at Niall, having already gone for a paper cup, sharpie under the counter and at the ready.

“For here?” He asks again and Niall isn’t too sure why.

“Uh yeah, just figured I really never bring it to go with me anywhere, so…”

Zayn frowns, knowing his manager won’t take too kindly to permanent marker on their mugs. He debates giving Niall a paper cup anyway, but since mishearing him isn’t an optional excuse now, he pulls a mug from the cabinet with a scowl.

“T’anks mate,” Niall says once he’s got his tea.

Harry’s there, taking up a booth, actually working, and Niall sits across from him.

“Oh hey,” Harry looks up, smiling when he realizes it’s Niall. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Niall sighs. He’s always here when Louis is, and since Louis is always working afternoons when Niall has breaks in between classes, he usually sees the both of them here. Harry’s just genuinely surprised to see Niall every time they don’t make plans. It never ceases to amaze Niall to be honest. 

They spend the rest of the hour working in silence, and when a good portion of the crowd thins out to rush to their respective classes, a plate full of brownie is dropped in front of Harry. Niall, surprised, catches Louis winking when he looks up.

“On the house.”

He’s gone back behind the counter just as fast but now Harry’s face seems like it’s going to crack he’s smiling so hard at the brownie.

Niall swallows, partly because that brownie looks really good but also, it really is Harry’s Big Coffee Shop Romance. With Louis. Not that he was ever expecting one with Zayn, but he supposes an ‘almost’ hurts a bit too.

“Want some?” Harry asks after he’s finally able to stretch his grin properly over words, bless him and his generosity.

“Nah, I’m good mate. Thanks though.”

Niall isn’t sulking. He really isn’t. He soldiers through Harry happily munching on his brownie while Louis gives him the dopiest heart eyes Niall’s ever seen for a full five minutes.

“Okay,” He finally says, standing up. “I’m gonna be off. Josh’s cooking t’night so I’m gonna have to supervise.”

Harry wrinkles his face.

“What? Y’just got here,” he frowns. “You’ve barely touched your drink.”

“Yeah, well.” Niall pretends to check his phone again. “Didn’t know I was running outta time. I’ll see ya.”

“Niall! Wait!”

Niall’s halfway down the street when Harry comes running haphazardly after him.

“Niall, are you shitting me- is this seriously about-?” He gasps.

“What? No! I told you, I’ve got to supervise dinner.” Niall hugs his jacket tighter as a particularly nasty gust blows past.

Harry gives him this look that says he totally doesn’t believe him. Not one bit. But he just claps Niall on the shoulder and asks him if he has a few specific ingredients, which Niall is sure he does at home.

“Good,” Harry says. “I’m cooking then. But Gemma’s coming over or else she’ll kill me for not feeding her.”

Josh is completely grateful when Harry takes over the kitchen, looking a bit overwhelmed with just a simple salad and pasta. But that’s just because he’s attempted to try something out other than frozen dinners.

Thankfully, Harry doesn’t bring up the incident in the shop up again.

 

**& &**

 

Louis finally asks Harry out to dinner a couple days later.

Niall suspects as much when he gets a text consisting of exclamation points and a rainbow of emojis. Selfishly, he groans to himself, knowing Harry’s going to come over right after and tell him everything. He knows he’s being difficult when he texts back a generic _yeah that’s great_ , but he can’t help it, even when he’s got Liam’s “maybe y’should just be happy for him” ringing in the back of his mind.

But Harry comes over later positively beaming and Niall can’t stay grumpy for long when he’s all blushes and shy, dimpled smiles, going on and on about how Louis wouldn’t take his eyes off him and how their feet tangled under the table.

“It’s like I’ve finally gotten this Big Coffee Shop Romance, y’know?” he says, curling into Niall’s lap with a content sigh. “And he’s definitely a keeper.”

Niall hums, threads his fingers through Harry’s curls.

“Good enough to kiss on the first date?” Niall licks his lips, most resolutely not picturing his own legs knocking against Zayn’s in some nondescript restaurant with stupid smiles over ice cream sundaes and vanilla flavoured kisses later. Okay, maybe he does.

Harry hums around a smile.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring him home,” Niall admits.

“Don’t want to rush things,” Harry says. “It’s special.”

Niall continues to run his fingers through Harry’s hair until he falls asleep right on his lap.

 

**& &**

 

Paul starts giving him more hours at the record shop when Jesy quits out of the blue (much to Liam’s dismay) and soon, Niall’s life starts revolving almost solely around classes and keeping stock of limited edition vinyls. Niall doesn’t complain either, he knew he needed to stop hanging around the coffee shop so much, especially if he’s just going to be sore about Harry and Louis all the time. Plus, more pay.

At least Liam is moping with him now too. Misery loves its company.

It’s a slow Saturday when Zayn comes in again, and Liam isn’t even there to help when Niall loses his centre of gravity and topples over an armful of CDs when he sees the dark haired bloke standing in the doorway, as if he was waiting to be noticed.

“Hey, alright there mate?” Zayn asks, picking up a stray Judas Priest CD and regarding it before handing it back.

Niall hopes he misses the hitch in his breath and the twitch in his fingers when they brush against Zayn’s.

“Yeah, sorry. A bit-“ Niall waves his hands around. “It’s been a slow day, so I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

Zayn huffs out a soft laugh, digging his hands into his pockets.

“Same. I got Lou to hold down the fort for a bit,” he smiles.

Apparently, the sentiment goes right over Niall’s blond quiff. 

“Yeah? Harry isn’t there too I hope,” He jokes.

“Nah, made sure of it before I left.”

The silence that settles around Zayn and Niall becomes a bit awkward, especially when Niall goes to clear his throat and looks at the CDs as if they can get them both out of this. Jim Croce stares back at him and there’s no way Niall will be able to pull off shelving him into the heavy metal section, and he’s not about to up and ditch Zayn and risk looking like an even bigger asshole.

“So, uhm. Haven’t really seen you around the shop for a bit, mate.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s just… classes and stuff. Plus I’ve picked up more hours here cause someone just quit.”

It’s not entirely a lie. But Zayn definitely knows what Niall is stretching. It’s that lull between midterms and the exam period. Where nothing happens and Niall knows he should start on his essays before he’s got five papers due in the span of two weeks, but he inevitably never does.

The ‘I can see right through your bullshit, but I won’t say anything’ look is written across Zayn’s face as clear as day, so Niall clears his throat and tacks on a:

“I should really drop by sometime soon though, can’t survive a whole day wit’out it.”

Again, it’s not a total lie. If Niall would just replace ‘it’ with ‘you’. He really misses seeing Zayn’s face every afternoon. The tea is an added bonus, it prevents the weariness from seeping into his bones until he can get home to crash.

The bell on the little record store door tolls, interrupting Niall’s chance to see if Zayn’s at least bought this half truth when Zayn turns to look over in surprise.

It’s only Liam.

“Afternoon,” he chirps before stumbling on the scene. “Oh. S-sorry. I’m just here to. Uhm. To read. I’ll be in back if you need me for anything, Niall.”

Niall can’t tell if he’s grateful or not for him.

He decides he’s not so grateful when Zayn takes a couple steps back and mumbles something about getting back to work anyway.

“Have to check to make sure Lou didn’t sneak Harry in, or else I’ll have to end up disinfecting the place.”

He turns his back on Niall’s quiet “okay”, and the only thing breaking the silence after he leaves is Liam’s loud, obnoxious sigh coming from behind him.

 

 **& &**

 

Niall tries to go back to his regular schedule at the coffee shop, for Zayn, but it’s hard when Harry practically lives there in the afternoons and all he and Louis seem to do is stare longingly after one another when Louis isn’t parading around giving Harry free brownies during the lulls during classes. Niall and Zayn joke about it when Zayn comes by the record shop every so often, and Niall tries his best not to sound terribly bitter when he laughs and asks Zayn for the umpteenth time how much money they’re losing with at least two brownies going to Harry every day.

His efforts don’t last. 

Niall gets sick of Louis smirking at Harry every time he sashays over with a brownie and he’s over Harry’s attempts to offer some.

Worst of all, Liam won’t stop sighing after every time Zayn leaves the record shop, clearly not giving up like Niall sort of has.

 

**& &**

 

It’s piss pouring rain. There’s thunder booming in the distance if Niall strains his ears to listen, and it’s probably the last good thunder storm they’ll be getting before the unseasonably warm weather finally dips for a proper winter. Niall’s thankful he came into the record shop before it started.

Liam isn’t so lucky, pushing past the door panicked and damp and beginning to shiver five minutes after the real downpour had begun.

“We should take all the merch from the back so there’s no water damage just in case it floods like last time,” he says, rushing straight to the back to check on things and to call Paul to let him know that everything’s under control.

Niall hums in agreement, going along with Liam’s judgement because he wasn’t here the last time it flooded with the downpour.

They busy themselves for the next hour reorganizing the back and taking what can’t be moved to higher ground out to the front.

In that time the shop itself becomes busier than Niall’s seen it in months with pedestrians rushing in to take cover from the rain. No one buys anything, they just peruse the aisles with feigned and half-hearted looks of interest while they probably wonder when the rain will let up just enough to go back out.

Niall’s just placing the last box full of used vinyls behind the counter when a familiar figure catches his eye in the window.

Zayn looks a bit wet- well, a bit wet might be an understatement- when he slams through the record store door, nearly knocking the bell off as he shakes the rain from his hair and startles everyone.

“Hey mate,” Niall says, a bit stunned as Zayn pushes a drenched lock of dark hair from his face. And no, he definitely does not think about how Zayn would look getting out of Niall’s shower. “Pretty shit out there, innit?”

Zayn seems to be almost taken aback by the comment for a brief second, but a wide smile breaks across his face, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth in a way Niall finds stupidly endearing.

“Yeah, s’absolutely insane.” And it’s a bit weird, Niall thinks to himself as he watches the way Zayn seems to rush to what seems like the first rack, pick out the first vinyl his eyes land on, and hurry to the counter. “Sorry, mate. Can’t really stay to chat, Louis’ giving me five minutes before he leaves me to close.”

Zayn slams a note on the counter, and a to-go cup. Niall rings the Boston vinyl up, and before Niall can give back his pound and eighty-seven cents, Zayn’s rushing out a “keep the change” and pushing the cup to him.

“S’um… You said you get a bit cranky without your cuppa, and I haven’t seen you today, or these past two weeks at the shop, so-“

Niall could swear there’s a dusting of colour to Zayn’s cheeks, but it’s gone in the second he takes to look at the offering.

“Uh, thanks mate. I really appreciate it.” He must sound nervous when he laughs because Zayn gives off an awkward wave as he ducks his head and hurries back out the door with his Boston vinyl in hand. In the back of his mind, Niall actually wonders if Zayn even knows the band.

Niall finds that his tea’s gone a bit cold when he goes to take a grateful sip. But that’s okay, his stomach still flips when he thinks that Zayn brought it over to him, just for him, when he’s supposed to be working because he remembered and-

“Where’d you get that?”

Liam emerges from the back room, eyebrows furrowed and lips slipped into a jealous pout.

“Zayn.”

“Ah. And you still don’t think he might fancy you just a bit?”

Niall takes another sip of his tea in favour of humouring Liam with an answer. He nearly chokes on the sudden realization that it’s made to his liking.

“Don’t you have something productive to do?” Liam asks when he sees Niall playing with the cup sleeve on his tea, still staring over the racks of CDs and vinyls and people. He elbows Niall roughly as he passes to get to the other side of the counter. “Like, I don’t know- wait, Niall?”

“Hm? If it’s about the new shipment, you promised Paul you’d do it in exchange fer-“

“No, no, the cup,” Liam points. “S’written on. Christ Niall, look.”

Liam snatches the cup, sliding the sleeve off before slamming it back down again and spilling the remains over the counter. It gets the message across though because Niall picks it up, reading the note.

_Niall,_

_Zayn._

There’s a heart. Doodled in like the one on Harry’s and this can’t be right? This pounding in his chest and brain as his mind tries to catch up with everything is just a mistake. The heart is a mistake. (But he really hopes it isn’t).

“Liam, mate,” suddenly he’s in motion, not really thinking as he grabs the cup off the counter and whips his head around to check the time on the clock on the wall. “I gotta go. I gotta- I’ll give you half me paycheque this week if you do, especially if the back does flood, I’m- he’s probably gone, but… Please?”

Niall turns back to the cup, staring at it in awe.

“Close, yeah, got it.” Liam stares at him. “What are you standing there, for? Go!”

Niall finally bolts.

 

**& &**

 

It’s with wild wind and relentless rain staining his cheeks ruddy that Niall curses his own stupidity as he runs through the emptying streets and the dying light to catch the last closing seconds of the coffee shop. He’s sure he’s well on his way to an asthma attack when he planks against the door and tries to yank it open, only to find it’s already locked.

Niall’s heart plummets, which probably isn’t a good thing for his heaving lungs, but he sees Zayn straightening out from behind the counter to see what the noise was. Niall holds up the cup, points to it, and Zayn rushes around the counter, keys visibly shaking in his hands as he unlocks the door again.

“Hey, I-“

Niall grabs Zayn’s face, pulling him in for a sloppy, off-sided kiss. He’s sure it’s probably not the most appropriate response in this type of situation, but then again, Niall isn’t sure what is exactly appropriate. But Zayn, for some reason, is pulling him closer and kissing back, so it can’t be all that bad.

The kiss breaks off, loud and wet and Niall flushes with the sudden realization of what he’s just done.

“Uhm, sorry, bit too forward?” He scratches the back of his damp neck.

Zayn hums, pecking Niall on the lips again. “Been waitin’ for this actually. C’mere, let’s get inside, the floor’s getting soaked and I jus’ swept.”

Zayn flicks the kettle back on once they’re safely inside and the rest of the rain water has been mopped up again.

“Didn’t think the hearts were fer me,” Niall admits after Zayn procures a couple of mugs. “Where’s the tea?” 

He’s looking on all the shelves to find the bags before Zayn pulls out a jar of actual crushed tea leaves and spoons them into the infusers, plopping them into the mugs with a smile.

“Didn’t even notice my first one,” Zayn says.

Niall looks up, a bit shocked and a tad surprised, but the fond look Zayn’s giving him as he hands him his tea says that it’s all water under the bridge now. Even if Niall did spend the last two months moping and dithering around like an inconsolable idiot. (He won’t tell Niall he asked Louis every day to ask Harry about him and the way he likes his tea). 

And Niall makes it a point to watch how Zayn prepares his own, jotting down mental notes for sleepy lie-ins on rainy days that he hopes are a definite possibility in the near future.

“So, Niall,” Zayn blows the steam from his prepared tea (two sugars, no milk, the colour of hazel brown eyes glinting in the late afternoon sunlight) across the counter to Niall. “Tell me about yourself.”

And Niall does, with reddening cheeks and a shy laugh. Indulging this fantasy of going slow, holding off on the desperate urge to run his fingers along the stubble dotting Zayn’s jaw as he feels Zayn’s throat rumble with an encouraging hum at the feel of Niall’s lips there. Because there’s a slight promise, a whisper thrumming through their veins telling them that this could be something more than a quick couple of shags on coffee counters.

But if they steal a few more kisses in the dimly lit coffee shop, caught up in their own little world (their own Big Coffee Shop Romance) as passers-by bustle past, well, no one has to know.

**Author's Note:**

> You can always drop by and say hi on tumblr! [http://falling-idols.tumblr.com]


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